The Rusted Blade
by StupidStorywriter6
Summary: When all of his hatred and ambition dries up, Ganondorf realizes there really isn't anything left of himself after those thousands and thousands of years. He burned every possible bridge, and has nothing left. No home, no family, and he never had friends. Even his legend has rusted and faded over the years. So he builds something new. Drabble series. Post-Series. No paring.
1. Rogue Piece

Ganondorf found the sword in the rotting remains of a trader's wagon.

How fitting of such a noble blade, to be picked up by some clueless peon and then abandoned.

Millennia had robbed the sword of its light as the Goddesses forgot it - like everything else they ever 'blessed'. But the blade was still sharp without a single scratch or dent, so he chose to take it. Eventually all swords broke, or, more often, rusted away like the centuries. But this slim sword was enchanted, and even if it was no longer blessed it would at least serve him longer than the other blades he'd taken up. Maybe he could even pretend that civilizations weren't falling and being rebuilt while he walked long, lonely roads, because he measured time by how chipped his sword was.

And, he knew for a fact the slim sword wasn't as pure as the white would let some believe.

((RB))

He found the child much in the same way. Presented to him like some sort of prank. It was even wrapped.

"Please…! Protect my child! I'll do anything, give you anything so long as you-Ah…?"

The woman who'd been begging him jerked, an arrow protruding from her throat. Gurgling on red, she somehow managed to still fumble the soft blanket into his arms. Ganondorf was in little more than rags, but he was strong and armed and the only other around who wasn't a monster. To her he must have seemed like a savior sent from the Goddesses, only a moment too late for her, but there for her child. He didn't bother stopping her body's slide to the ground, and he nearly didn't even bother to not drop the crying child. But pure curiosity won him over, and he tore away the cloth obscuring the infant and used the rag to wipe the blood away.

The monsters circled and jeered, gestured from the dead woman by his feet and then back up to him. Threat ignored, Ganondorf shot one with magic and looked over the infant he'd just had dropped in his lap. Plump and pink like a pig, it screamed defiantly at the jostling and cold, and Ganondorf nearly threw it at the recovering monsters. But, the child's crying lessened as a golden glow slowly grew from the top of its- his - left hand. With a soft coo, the infant grabbed at the Gerudo's hand, as he could peel away the light and hold it.

Ganondorf stared at the glowing brand on the chubby and so, so, _so_ , tiny hand that pulsed weakly in time with his own. Stared at his fated enemy - a tiny and fat dough-child who couldn't even see properly and would splatter if he just flexed his hand the tiniest bit. It would be so easy, just a simple clench of his hand around any part of the so-called hero and he'd die. If the cycle was starting once more then that meant that the princess would be alive as well; just as young and weak/ Even after all these years, these _millennium_ , the number of people who could actually stop him could be counted on one hand. And none of them were any threat to him if he decided to storm the castle.

Ah, he saw what this was.

He hadn't adopted his predetermined role of villain for almost a thousand years now. Or had it already been a more than a millennium? He couldn't remember. His sword was still white and sharp and strong so one week, one month, one year, one decade, _one century, one -_ was the same as the next. When everything was the same in the end, what difference did it make if he became a nameless vagabond doing nothing significant? And what was less significant than the storybook villain being a melancholic fool who moped around, as if he had something as precious as a heart? Ha! Hearts were for those who _deserved_ them, and what would he want with a heart? With happiness or hope or, Goddesses forbid, _empathy_? His heart was so rotted he could never be happy until he overthrew the Goddesses themselves. In fact, a monster like himself probably never had a heart in the first place!

Hearts could break, afterall.

And if he was being uncooperative, then just drop the impossibly-tantalizing opportunity right in his lap. What was it this time? Kill the hero, kill the princess, take their pieces, and finally win. Win and rule until some upstart found a new 'mysterious' source of power and killed or sealed him once again?

The infant cooed and reached up to try and grab a lock of unkempt and uncut red hair even as the monsters worked up their nerve, cried out, and charged. An arrow was whizzing Ganondorf and the tiny child just kept being idiotically ignorant of the situation, that his mother was dead and that he was held clumsily in the arms of the dark lord he'd have grown up hearing stories about. Nameless, forgotten in all but superficial children stories, despite all the live he'd taken and history he'd shaped.

He was so, so, tired of these games.

 **Yes this is going exactly where you think it is.**

 **Random idea that'll be continued as snippets, both in and out of order.**


	2. Destiny

Over his life(s), Ganondorf had seen exactly what the Goddess' chosen hero was capable of. Blessed with unnatural strength and endurance stolen from slain enemies, entire armies were incapable of standing against the hero. Any advantage his enemies held over him was moot before his cunning wit and tactics. All enemies fell before his blade - a scythe that reaped blood.

He refused to believe that those heroes had been mere Hylians. Only something greater than mortal could do such things.

"You're going to get yourself killed one day."

"'m not…" Link sniffed, and whimpered as Ganondorf tightened the bandages with a sharp tug and look.

"What did you think was going to happen? You were going to walk up to it, take the necklace, then waltz away?" Yes, the Goddess' chosen were surely blessed with amazing intellect and skill from birth...

Blue eyes refused to meet his own, "I had a weapon…"

What a load of crap.

"Yes, you had a twig. Not even a Deku stick, just a half-rotted branch you picked up off the ground."

"I thought it would be enough…It was just a stupid plant."

"A stupid plant that snapped your 'weapon' exactly like what it was; a twig."

"I just wanted to get the necklace back…" A necklace some friend of Link's wasn't even supposed to have, much less have been running around with in the woods. Ganondorf thought it was actually lucky the Deku Baba had stopped her; a group of bandits wouldn't have been so generous as to just scare her. But no, Link had to be a _hero_ of all things and try and get the necklace back so her mother wouldn't have to know. Even lacking every other trait previous heroes held, he surely had their lack of self-preservation instincts.

And was that a fresh batch of tears peaking at the corner of Link's eyes? It certainly was, and Link flushed, indignant at his own weakness, and turned away, "I wouldn't have to use a stick if you'd just teach me how to use a sword."

...And there was the near-obsession with swordplay that Link had had since he could tell the difference between a rock and bread. Even the kitchen knives weren't safe and Ganondorf was forced to keep them under magical lock and key, "Children shouldn't have such a fascination for sharp pieces of metal that they're just as likely to eviscerate themselves with as the enemy."

"If you taught me…"

"You're not even eight yet. You are too young to even use the practice sword properly." Too young for anything that the wide and cruel world would inevitably have planned for him. Too young to start falling into the role the Goddess' had planned, too young to know how to kill, too young to be hurt…

Well, it was too late for that, Ganondorf thought with a rueful look at the bandages on the child's still-cubby arm. The bandages weren't really needed, not with the near-constant resonance their Triforce pieces shared with the close proximity that came with living together. A resonating that was pumping more and more magic through Link's veins with every day that slipped away like sand. He couldn't use it yet - didn't even know it was happening- but some day, some day soon…

Link was going to become terrifyingly powerful and nigh untouchable, what with the defensive turn his magic was taking from the daily grind of life.

Ganondorf was pulled out of his musings when Link did the same with his arm, clutching it to his chest and doing his best to coddle and nurse it. A sour look was thrown his way, and Ganondorf sighed and stood to his full height, necklace in hand. Link stood as well, but refused to look at his adopted father, and trudged a few steps behind.

Which made it especially surprising when, nearly at the village gate, Link did his best to lace his fingers with the Gerudo's own. Link still wouldn't look meet his eyes, but Ganondorf humored the fuming child clearly stewing in petty anger and self-pity and closed his hand around Link's.

Ganondorf should have known better.

Not a month later he caught Link and half a dozen other brats being taught by one of the village men basic sword techniques. There was nothing impressive about the moves themselves, they lack all fineness and key footwork, but a cold sort of rage built in Ganondorf, irrationally. To see Link with sword in hand - slashing and thrusting at dummies with technique that would surpass his teacher in a matter of days - was to see a nightmare. A nightmare that was destiny and meddling Goddess' and failure and suffering and pain.

Although he knew it always, it became clear then that while he could escape he role, Link could not. Would not, actively refused to and conspired against such plans. He was a hero who would save anyone who looked pathetic enough, and some part deep down in the child knew he'd need deadly skills to survive.

The Goddess' groomed their chosen well, after all.

Ganondorf didn't sleep that night, nor the night after. But he slept the third night, woke Link before dawn, and all but beat the child with the ill-fitting practice sword with all the compassion and mercy his own mentors had shown him.

Nearly two hours later, Link was limping something terrible. A nasty bruise was already forming on his leg and at least one more on his side must have made walking painful. Several dozen small scratches covered his body and there was no doubt they stung horribly. Not to mention the general ache that inevitably came with unfamiliar work that would persist for days after.

Ganondorf had never seen the boy smiling so brightly.

"You're the one who wanted sword lessons," Ganondorf said when the child stumbled and hissed sharply. Maybe he'd been a tad harsh on the boy for a first lesson, but the Gerudo regretted nothing. If Link learning how to swing a sword was inevitable, if the coming evil was inevitable, if a hero being needed was inevitable, then he'd make sure the blasted kingdom got the best hero they'd ever seen. And if that meant a painful childhood, so be it.

Besides, he was already healing. The rest of the walk back to the village wouldn't kill him.

Despite that, Ganondorf carried Link back the rest of the way, and even let the child nap until midday.

* * *

 **Ideas are considered.**


	3. It is a Lie

The first time it happened, Link was four. He woke with a start, clawing at an invisible enemy, a scream choking in his throat. It took several minutes for him to realize that the great black thing attacking him was only a dream.

Link sobbed quietly the rest of the night.

It only grew from there.

((RB))

Ganondorf knew his adopted...child was having nightmares. Figments of the imagination weren't something to be bothered by, and the boy would have to learn this one way or another. Irrational fears weren't even uncommon at this age, and though it was hilarious in a pathetic way that the bearer of Courage would be afraid of make believe-monsters, the Gerudo still thought little of it.

Until he woke to the sound of the screams belonging only to the dying or deranged and walked in on a toddler doing his damndest to claw his eyes out.

Restraining Link wasn't at all the best thing to do, but Ganondorf thought he had every right panic a little since there was a worrying amount streaming down Link's face. Link somehow screamed even louder, and thrashed as if in a seizure.

"Link."

The sudden stillness was even more terrifying than the thrashing – it was as if the child had turned to stone. The wild and feral fear in the boy's eyes set something off in Ganondorf. It was a terrible look of universal fear – fear of both oneself and the entire world. It was a look that set an irrational anger alight in his veins that mixed poorly with the odd sinking-sickly feeling.

Link was terrified of him.

"It was just a dream." Ganondorf said with more conviction than he'd felt in a long time, as if he could craft a spell then and there to assure that truth.

Link had flinched at the words –at his voice - before going pale and then green in such rapid succession that it was a small miracle that Ganondorf managed to get the child outside before he vomited all over the floor. Retching gave way to dry-heaving that tumbled into sobbings, and Ganondorf drug the child into his lap when his arms trembled a dangerous amount, only then realizing his hand had never stopped massaging circles on Link's back.

Sometime later he scooped up the hiccupping child and Link wrapped his arms greedily around a strong neck and hid from the world. Apologies and promises to "never ever, ever, be a bad kid" tumbled out and over themselves, and what little Ganondorf was able to piece together was…enlightening, in the same way a poison was discovered.

Link had dreamt of murdering. He had been dreaming of fighting an anonymous enemy for some time, but tonight was different. Different in a way he refused to say, but Ganondorf knew the moment the child shied away from him, ashamed.

And when the child asked why as he was set back in his bed, the former king sighed and let the bitterness in his heart rule.

"There is no reason for it." The Gerudo lied easily, for every moment of this life was false. But he was aged and bitter and willing to do whatever it took to spit in the faces of those that had cursed him, "The Goddess do such things out of petty jealousy."

"We have immense power, and they wish to control that." The Triforce of Power -his Triforce- rose to the surface of his skin easily, and the pulse followed his heartbeat loyally. Link's own rose to the call eagerly, and soon the resonance built between them, "One day I'll tell you a very, very, long story about the power you hold. But it's even more unpleasant than any dream the Goddess may send you out of spite, so until then, don't dream at all."

Link nodded, and leaned into the hand brushing away loose hair, "I'll try…"

Link fell asleep almost instantly; partially due to exhaustion in general, mostly due to sedatives Ganondorf gave him. Which was fine, because the child missed the contemplative look the Gerudo had when he noticed his own comforting gestures, done without thought. Such a thing was…worrying for a mountain of reasons. It was one thing to raise a child out of spite and to secure his own safety for yet another cycle, but for this…

Ganondorf didn't sleep that night.

* * *

 **Originally this included the specifics of the dream, but I took that out for various reasons.**


	4. A Name Engraved in History

Ganondorf didn't think about the reason he'd named the child Link.

He liked to think it was for any numerous reasons. A bitter mockery towards the Goddesses at having stolen their child of fate, a rueful and self-destructive fondness for the only challenge in his many lives, or maybe just to make it more satisfying to bash the infant's head in if it annoyed him too much. Any spiteful reason would do- any, really.

Yet no matter the reason he told himself, Link responded to that name and no other. It didn't matter how much he repeated other generic names, or how many slight variations in the name he used. Because none of it mattered, since Link was far too young to actually know what words were, yet still perked up at the name without fail. It was only a word, meaningless in another part of the world, and yet it was already branded in the infant's mind, before he even knew what a mother or father was.

Ganondorf felt bitter and angry on the infant's behalf.

Link was a good child, none the less.


	5. The Hero of the Goddesses

Link never really understood just how abnormally strong his father was. Sure, Ganondorf was stronger than anyone else in the village, but that was to be expected: the Gerudo was his father and his father would always be the best. So Link didn't really get why everyone flinched whenever he father picked him up roughly or when he was annoyed and disciplined him with a light cuff to the back of the head he barely even felt. Ganondorf had carried and cared for him when he was a baby, and babies were way more fragile than he was now, at the cusp of puberty. And it wasn't like Link didn't know that the Gerudo was strong. He'd seen him flip wagons upright by himself with easy, carry five times as the other men in the village with a tenth of the effort, and, once he'd even watched his father clear away a fallen full-grown tree from one of the village paths. But that was how it'd always been and always would be as far as Link could see. It was like the blueness of the sky or the softness of the grass or the golden piece of heaven branded on his hand; it was something that simply was and would never change.

Besides, he knew he father wouldn't ever hurt him without reason. Sure, he'd never come away from a single sword training session _not_ patterned with bruises and splattered with his own blood, but it was only because he was getting stronger. Stronger, and better, and used to pain, and forcing his father to try harder and longer before Link would give up. And with his magic lessons finally making progress, Link could heal a number of his own wounds without help. Which meant that their practice sessions could be more vicious, more ruthless, and with fancier and dirtier moves. Cracked ribs taught him to always watch for devastatingly quick kicks, twisted and broken wrists showed him that there was indeed a correct way to fall while holding a weapon, and concussions that rattled his teeth were brilliant teachers in the art of ducking the flat of a blade. Agony was far more than a mere feeling, and was just as much his tutor as his father.

Maybe he was messed up in the head, but the thought of finally pushing his father to his limits excited Link. He would never surpass him – no blade could stand up to the strange sword Ganondorf had, and more and more of their funds went to replacing the swords that had snapped or blunted – but one day he was sure he'd finally see the Gerudo just as exhausted after their practice, sweating and finally enjoying the first challenge he'd had in ages.

Because if Link knew one thing, he knew that Ganondorf loved to fight. Ganondorf enjoyed very few things in life, and battling was one of those rare things. Link understood why, too. Even as one's body was pushed to the absolute limit, even as one's heart threatened to give out and everything was burning into nothing, one never felt more alive in that moment. Drunk on adrenaline and high from the fumes that were all you had left, mortality could never be understood better than then and there. Because all it took was one slip up, one laps in control, and he'd die without ever having even winded his rival, his enem-

Link shook his head and sighed as he cut that line of thought off then and there. If he let that continue he'd only think disturbed thoughts that made him shiver from a poisonous fire that had never truly extinguished.

Ganondorf was his father and cared for him like one should. Nothing else beyond that mattered. Even if Link had started growing moody and arguments were more prone between the them, even when the words traded between them were turned into blades and flung at the other's face, they'd make up eventually. They were absolutely incompatible, were destined to always irritated the other with their mere presence, and living together was trial to be tackled day-by-day, with no guarantee they'd succeed. And yet, for some reason Ganondorf would always protect him from monsters, always go after him when he ran away in tears. How could Link do anything except try his hardest as well?

Suddenly restless, Link gracefully slipped down the tree he'd often found refuge in. Sturdy and dizzyingly tall, the distance from the lowest branch to the ground was a good eight feet. And yet Link, not even five foot yet, found it easy to scramble up and down the trunk that others saw as barren of any handhold. A slight bump here, a shallow line where the trunk dipped in ever so slightly; even without all that, the friction of the rough bark against his hand would've been enough.

Link made his way over to the smoldering hornet's nest and stomped out the last of the flames that had consumed it. The adults always kept talking about getting rid of it, and yet kept putting it off for one reason or another. It was too high up in the tree, it was impossible to get close to it without getting stung, it was a terrible idea to throw stones at it to try and knock it down like a few other children, filled with dumb bluster, found out. Link didn't really care about the stupid hornets since they didn't make proper honey and he was smart enough to leave them alone. But then one of the children younger than him, a small slip of a girl who was barely six, wandered too close and got stung something terrible. Be it a bad reaction or just the sheer quantity of poison, either option ended with her nearly dying.

Link was bad at healing anything besides himself, but he was still able to help save her life. The local healer hadn't wanted to do anything besides offer the most basic herbs. A few others agreed, not wanting to waste more valuable medicine on a girl who was clearly "touched in the head" from the way she stumbled around unsteadily and still struggled to string three words together.

Something like that really was terrible. Although he could see the reasoning behind it, those cold-hearted adults were treating another Hylian like a horse with a broken leg. That wasn't a fair comparison at all. She could recover just fine while the horse would almost surely suffer for life if it didn't die slowly from the creeping death of infection. Even if she wasn't smart enough for the adults to be satisfied, even if she was "touched in the head" and cursed with dullness and drooling words, she was still a Hylian. Even if she had to be led around for the rest of her life on a leash, she still had a chance to live right then, and abandoning her was so cold Link turned away and inwards for a little more warmth.

It wasn't as if he was being a blind optimist either. If he didn't think she would've been able to survive, he would've killed her himself if her parents would've let him. But that wasn't abandoning her, he reasoned. There was no point the dragging it out because they selfishly wanted her to live; he'd seen too many animals die a slow, whimpering death just because a child didn't want their pet to 'leave them'. Those condemned to die should at least be allowed die as painlessly as possible; not dragged through life until the skin left their bones. But those who could still live should at least be given a chance.

Absently, Link contemplated what would happen if those cruel people just died like the little girl almost did. He wasn't plotting to kill them or anything, but not a single part of him would morn their deaths. The news would briefly sadden him at the loss and then the thought of 'death' would slide off him and he'd move on- not knowing what it was to mourn. He knew that was strange and unnatural to feel about people knew. He knew their names, knew their lives pretty well, and some of them gave him lots of extra food even with his father was home- as if he hadn't been taught how to feed himself. Which was really dumb, because there was plenty of food stored away, and if he really did run out it wasn't like he wouldn't ask them for food then. Did they really think he was so dumb he couldn't even do that much?

But he was already more competent than those adults, and Link knew this when he stomped the smothering ashes of the hornets nets. They'd made such a big deal about the entire thing. It was too high, too dangerous, too much effort, and that laziness nearly got someone killed. Yet all it took was one arrow, a tiny fire spell licking at the very tip, and the problem was taken care of. Sure, none of the other adults besides his father had magic, but they were adults! They had other things like strength and height and that worldly wisdom the really old ones kept talking about to make up for it. Was it really that hard to be bothered to take action?

Link decided then and there that he wouldn't sit by and do nothing about such simple problems anymore.


End file.
